The Honor of Spies

Von Dattenberg ignored the question.

"Shore sends, Nine Nine sir," the signalman reported.

"Send, One Five," von Dattenberg ordered.

"One Five, aye, sir."

"We have established contact with the beach," von Dattenberg said to von Deitzberg. "I have just sent them code for 'Commencing disembarkment.'"

He picked up a telephone handset.

"Open two and five. Put boats on deck and inflate. I want a line on every man on deck."

"What happens now?" von Deitzberg asked, his tone implying that whatever that was, he reserved the right to correct anything of which he did not approve.

"I have ordered the rubber boats to be brought onto the deck," von Dattenberg said. "There are, in all, four of them. They will be inflated and put over the side. Two trips to the beach will be necessary, presuming nothing goes wrong.

"How the boats will be loaded is up to you, Herr Brigadefuhrer, by which I mean it is your decision whether you want to be put ashore first, or whether you would rather wait until some of your men are ashore. Each boat will carry six men, two of whom will be my sailors.

"We are approximately a thousand meters offshore. I estimate it will take fifteen minutes to row ashore, and probably ten for the boats to return here."

"Why the difference?"

"Coming back to the ship, the rubber boats will be lighter and the wind will be behind them."

"Why can't you go closer to the beach?"

"We would run aground, Herr Brigadefuhrer," von Dattenberg said simply.

Von Deitzberg was quiet for a moment, then he said, "I think it would be best to put the SS men ashore first. I will go with the special shipment when we know all is well on the beach."

"Whatever you wish, Herr Brigadefuhrer," von Dattenberg said, then picked up the telephone again.

"Send the SS men to the deck, put a line on each of them, and load them into the rubber boats as soon as possible."

"What is that? 'Put a line on each of them'?" von Deitzberg asked. "You've said that before."

"That's a safety measure, Herr Brigadefuhrer. In case they fall into the water."

"There's a risk of that?"

"Yes, there is. The hull is curved and slippery."

And if God is in his heaven, you arrogant SS sonofabitch, you will take a bath.

[SEVEN]

Cafe Dolores

Dolores Railway Station

Dolores, Buenos Aires Province, Argentina

0845 28 September 1943

When the dark green--almost black--1941 Buick Roadmaster sedan pulled into the parking area and stopped, a clean-cut young man in a business suit suddenly appeared and walked quickly to the car.

"Senor . . . ," the driver of the Buick said, not in alarm, but warily.

"That's Sargento Lascano, Pedro, relax," the middle-aged, muscular, balding man in the passenger seat said as he opened the door and got out.

"Buenos dias, senor," Sargento Manuel Lascano said.

"Nice suit, Lascano," the muscular man said. He was Inspector General Santiago Nervo, chief of the Special Investigations Division of the Gendarmeria Nacional. He was de facto, if not actually de jure, Argentina's most powerful policeman.

Sargento Lascano had spent five of his twenty-three years in the army, and almost all of that in the infantry, and almost all of that in remote provinces. Just before the coup d'etat

that had made General Arturo Rawson the president of Argentina, Lascano had been transferred to the Edificio Libertador headquarters of the Ejercito Argentino for "special duty."

Having been selected as the most promising among ten candidates for training as an intelligence agent, it was intended that he receive a final vetting for suitability by the then-el Teniente Coronel Alejandro Martin--the chief of the Ethical Standards Office of the Argentine Bureau of Internal Security--by "working with him" for a week or two.

The coup d'etat had changed all that. Sargento Lascano had been given responsibilities during the chaos of the coup far beyond his expected capabilities and handled them remarkably well. Martin had been promoted to coronel, and Lascano had been given the credentials and authority of a BIS agent--and, although this was not made public, the promotion to warrant officer that went with them--and became officially what he had been during the coup, assistant to Martin.

"Thank you, senor," Lascano said. "Senor, el coronel suggests you park your car in the garage over there." He pointed. "They are expecting you."

"Who are we hiding from, Lascano?" Nervo asked.

"Just about everybody, senor."

"Where's your jefe?"

"There is a room in the cafe."

"Go park the car, Pedro," Nervo said, and then asked, "Is he welcome in the cafe?"

"You are Subinspector General Nolasco, senor?" Lascano asked.

"You didn't recognize him, right?" Nervo said sarcastically.

"Guilty," the driver said.

"El coronel said Subinspector General Nolasco is welcome, sir."